


So Far Away

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpine - Freeform, Alpine the Cat, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Disaster/Warzone Setting, F.R.I.D.A.Y. is a sassy bae, F/M, Food, Grief, Loss of Parent(s), Major Warning for Grief, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prescription Medication, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert, She/her pronouns for reader, Stark Tower, Stark Tower Still Exists, canon divergent in parts, death/dying, hero bucky barnes, infinity war and endgame NEVER HAPPENED, loss of friends, other Marvel characters mentioned but not central to plot, will add more tags with each chapter as they become relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2020-10-21 03:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20686817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: When your home city of D.C. is attacked, The Avengers swoop in to save the day. All that saving though, seems so far away. You’re stuck in a zone already evacuated. You’re terrified, injured, and entirely sure you’re about to kick it. Enter: Bucky Barnes. He’s recovered, sweet, sassy, and very much ready to save you over and over and over again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second Bucky fic. I usually write about Van McCann. Feedback and encouragement go a long way. Go suss my other story too if you like a little more angst with your Bucky. 
> 
> Story begins in DC, moves to New York. I'm from Australia, so don't @ me about geography failures; I'm fragile.

The city was crumbling and between the crashing sounds of buildings toppling, screams and cries were painfully audible. That wasn't the most terrifying part though. It wasn't the lifeless bodies lying in the streets or the sight of your mangled hand that were causing you to panic. It was that everything was happening somewhere else. The crumbling and screaming seemed so far away. If the action was elsewhere, so were the heroes. 

Nobody was coming to save you. 

For almost half an hour they'd ripped through the city unchallenged; nobody really counted the unified effort of the first responders. They never stood a chance against the enemy from above. It took ten minutes for The Avengers to hear about it. They were en route within another ten. Even with all that Stark tech though, it still took them just over eleven minutes to arrive, landing and launching into action. 

You'd watched the heroes bounce off buildings and fly through the sky. They represented hope, but they couldn't save everyone. 

The evacuation wasn't fast enough and whole blocks of the city were wiped off the map. By the time you'd crawled out of the rubble of yours, the trucks taking people to safety were long gone. In their wake, tire tracks in the dirt and dust, and bodies left behind to save room for the living. 

You could walk, but terrified that someone… something… would circle back around, you dropped down behind a car that had been violently propelled across the street. Making yourself as small as possible, pulling your legs up to your chest and burying your face in your lap, you just listened. Thinking was too hard, and your thoughts were sure to be only dark and anxiety-inducing anyway.

It all seemed so far away. 

Then, the tell-tale sound of trouble. _No no no no no!_ you screamed in your head, covering your mouth with your hands to not let the terror out. 

_ _It was moving fast, but tearing everything up as it went. The sound coming from it was alien, but it still someone seemed like speech. It was communicating with the others. Then, you realised, it was looking for something. Sitting in a pile of bricks and glass, all you could do was hope to god that creatures from literal outer space didn't come to Earth in search of an old Ford. _ _

_ _Bits of debris came from over the car, rejected by the creature and cast aside. First, rocks and chunks of cement - too big for any human to throw so easily. They hit the building in front of you and shattered. A bad situation got worse when it dug deep enough to find the people who had been trapped under fallen buildings. Bodies flew over you, sometimes in parts. _ _

_ _After what felt like minutes but was only seconds, your entire body was shaking with abject horror. On the very cusp of losing consciousness from fear and blood loss, you heard one foreign sound. It was almost like a gunshot… but more… Star Wars-esque. It was immediately proceeded by silence. _ _

_ __Run!_ the voice in your head told you, but you were completely immobile. _ _

_ _"This thing's too damn light… Feels like a fuckin' toy," a human voice spoke. A pause for, presumably, a reply you didn't hear. "Yeah, it worked. Not the point." Another pause. "Call me that again, Stark and I'll-" The speaker abruptly stopped his conversation. _ _

_ _You hadn't heard him arrive. Unsurprisingly, you did not hear him as he walked through the destroyed street to the car you were hidden behind. To any other person, you were silent. However, he could hear the slight crunching of gravel beneath your feet, the air being inhaled and exhaled from your nose, and the tiny squeaks you were making entirely subconsciously. _ _

_ _Moving slowly, he made his way around the side of the car using footsteps that would make noise, announce his arrival. _Don't scare her._ You could feel him standing just metres from you. He spoke, but not to you._ _

_ _"I got a friendly… She's out of the evac zone." The pause for reply was long. "It's a ghost town here. Nobody's gonna be coming through for-" He was interrupted. "Don't care. Gonna bring her in." _ _

_ _Again, he moved slowly. _ _

_ _Your face was still buried and although you knew it was somebody _good_ crouching in front of you, everything was all too overwhelming to respond. _ _

_ _"Hi… I don't need ya to move just yet. Gonna have a look at your hand, if that's alright?" _ _

_ _His voice was calm. Far beyond the point of being in shock, it didn’t hurt when he gently took your arm. As he tightly wrapped your injured hand, you began to unwrap yourself. Lifting your head and opening your eyes, everything came into focus. Mostly, everything you could see was war. But, there he was. Easily recognisable, Bucky Barnes was finishing first aid on you. _ _

_ _His eyes lingered on the bandage for a moment, and you wondered where he'd stashed it before it stopped your bleeding. Did he have pockets of band-aids? _ _

_ _When he looked up at you, you were already looking back. _ _

_ _"Hi," he said._ _

_ _"Hi," you replied, your voice weak. _ _

_ _"Reckon we should get out of here. What do ya think?" As soon as you nodded, he mirrored the response and stood, helping you to your feet. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" _ _

_ _"N-no," you told him. That wasn't strictly true, but you were mostly numb. Deep, dark bruises would bloom all across your body over the coming days. How you managed to escape otherwise unharmed was magic or a miracle. _ _

_ _"Stronger than you look, huh?" he said, smiling. How he could smile in an environment like that was also magic or a miracle. "I know a couple people like that, so you're in good company. Always my favourite type of people," _ _

_ _"I didn't… didn't think you'd talk so much," you said. It kinda just came out, the same way the thoughts of little kids do. _ _

_ _Bucky's left arm was around your waist, holding almost all of your body weight. He was making carrying you through a warzone seem easy. Giving you a bit of a casual shrug, Bucky said, " I don't… Trick to keep ya conscious. Don't want you passing out on me," _ _

_ _"I'm not gonna pass out," you said, more in defiance than anything else. _ _

_ _Bucky scoffed. "Alright. So, what's your name then? What do you do?" _ _

_ _He'd obviously seen them before you, so by the time you clocked the creatures scrambling through broken buildings and rubble in their search, Bucky had already taken you off the road. Backs to the wall, he didn't appear in the slight bit concerned about the situation. He even looked to you, waiting for a reply before making his next move. _ _

_ _"Y/N," you told him. _ _

_ _"Y/N. Good to meet you, Y/N. I'm Bucky," _ _

_ _"I know," _ _

_ _"Yeah… Everybody fuckin' knows… Alright. Gonna need you to stay here for just a second, okay?" _ _

_ _As he went to peel away from the wall, you grabbed him with your one working hand. "Please don't leave me!" you begged in a harsh whisper. Tears had been streaming down your face since the first building went down, but a fresh flood started to sting your cheeks. _ _

_ _Bucky cupped your face with his gloved hands and looked you dead in the eyes. "I'm not leaving. I promise. I fuckin' promise you." _ _

_ _Slowly, you nodded. As soon as you did, he swooped off the curb and brought a reckoning down on the creatures. They hadn't seen him coming. Bucky moved with grace and ease, like he was born to fight. Later, when you were safe, you'd think about that moment, about the way he moved, and it would make you sad. _ _

_ _Back, Bucky wrapped himself around you again. And, that's how you got through the city. It was slow, but Bucky continually refused offers of help from whoever was in his earpiece. Resources were needed elsewhere, he said. He had you, and he'd get you to safety. _ _

_ _Time once again warping, fifteen minutes later you could hear voices and see human movement. It felt like you'd spent hours in Bucky's arms, watching him take down threats and crack bad jokes to keep you awake. _ _

_ _Before you realised what was happening, people were carrying you away from Bucky, pouring water down your throat and yelling at you that you were safe. Although you understood you were safe, it felt the opposite. "No! Please, please, please," you yelled, pushing free from the helpers and clinging back onto Bucky. All your words were rammed together, scared and needy. _ _

_ _Bucky let you hold him, wrapping his arms around you with the perfect amount of pressure. He hushed you with soft, "Shhhh," sounds. Using his teeth as a vice, Bucky pulled the glove off his right hand, then ran his fingers through your hair. "You're okay, Y/N. You're safe. You gotta stay here and have someone look at your hand. I gotta go help." _ _

_ _Although you nodded into him, you made no attempt to move. You'd been safe before it all happened, but it happened anyway. There was nothing to say that as soon as Bucky left, more creatures wouldn't arrive. _ _

_ _"Y/N. I got Captain America in one ear and Iron Man in the other. They can't do shit without me," Bucky joked. It made you laugh, looking up at him. "I'll come back when this is done. Bring ya flowers in the hospital," _ _

_ _"I'm scared," _ _

_ _"Yeah. Aliens are invading. It's scary. But it's kinda cool too, right?" he said with a wink. _ _

_ _He gently led you to one of the makeshift medical tents set up. When you were sitting down, he ruffled your hair in a weird gesture that confused you both, then left the safe zone. As soon as he was gone, you started to cry._ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's saved you before. Now he's gotta find you and bring you home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you prefer short chapters more frequently, or longer ones when I can finally put my thoughts and ideas together? Let me know in the comments please! I've got some really fluffy cute scenes coming up in future too.

Bucky couldn't visit you in the hospital, even if he had wanted to; there was only space for the critically injured in the still-standing healthcare facilities. Others were transported elsewhere in the country. Anywhere that could take people did. That just left the people like you - hurt but able to walk, i.e. not dying. 

Along with the thousands of other displaced city dwellers, you were assigned a fold out cot in a repurposed rec centre. It wasn't until you were sitting on it, with only a government issues sleeping bag and water bottle to call your own did reality set in. You'd lost your home. There was no way of contacting finding friends or family. With no connections outside of DC, you could only put your name on the 'registered: to be relocated' list and wait. Eventually you'd be seen by a caseworker, or so you were told. 

The rec centre was a battle within itself. Three nights in and it was almost as bad as the moments before Bucky found you. There were crying and hopelessness, and a sense that everything important was happening elsewhere, that all your fates were out of your hands. You were going mad. 

…

On the fourth morning, you were sitting on your cot with the girl who'd been sleeping next to you. While her mother went in search of anything resembling warm coffee, you braided the girl's hair. That's when you heard your name. 

Behind you stood a man in a crisp black suit. The dark sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose were unnecessary in the rec centre. "Y/N?" he repeated when you turned to look at him. 

As you stood, you nodded. "Yes," 

"Please follow me," 

"Wait!" you called when he moved too fast. "What's happening? Did you find my family? Do I bring my stuff with me?" 

Throwing all you had - drink bottle, toothbrush and paste, protein bar - into your sleeping bag, you bundled it up and jogged after the man. 

Nobody had been collected like that. Nobody had heard anything about their family from any official source either. You were very confused and a little sick with anticipation. Trotting along, you did your best to keep up without dropping anything.

Outside in the still dirty and broken street, the door to a sleek black car was held open for you. 

"Where-" but you were cut off by a body emerging from the back seat. 

"C'mon, man. She's only got one good hand. Could've taken her bag," Bucky said in a tone that was trying to be friendly but made the suited man shift uncomfortably and mumble an apology. 

Bucky took the sleeping bag from you and carefully put it in the car. He looked at you then, smiled and nodded. "Sorry, I didn't bring any flowers. Took a little longer to find ya than I thought." 

Eyes welling up with tears, you fell into his solid chest. Any embarrassment you could have felt was chased away with a wave of relief. You felt _safe_. 

"Hi," he whispered, knowing you weren't able to reply. 

Bundled in the backseat, Bucky gave you space to spread out if you wanted to. You didn't. After two minutes of watching you breathing heavily and trying not to curl into yourself, he undid his seatbelt and slide over.

"Come 'ere," he said, pulling you closer with his right arm. Nestled under him like a baby bird, it was easier to think. Thinking led to questions. 

"Where are we going?" you asked. The first words you had spoken since seeing him and they weren't even gracious. Bucky didn't care though. 

"New York," he answered. "Bit of a drive, but I reckon driving is safer than flying right now. We'll stay off the radar better too." 

At the allusion to threat, your heart rate increased. "Are they still here?" you asked. 

A state of emergency had been declared. That's all you'd really heard. You wanted to know if the creatures that had come from the sky were still waging war. It hadn't been an accident that they'd landed in the capital of arguably the most powerful nation in the world. 

"I'm a sucker for a pretty face, Y/N, but I can't go around telling state secrets… But the battle's over for now; you're safe. Nothing to worry about." 

It wasn't just you, though. There were people to find. Help. Save. However, even thinking about all of that, all of them, was too dangerous of a luxury at that point. You couldn't let yourself think beyond yourself. Instead, you asked, "Where are we going?" again, meaning to inquire about specifics. 

Bucky was very used to people's inability to function effectively after pain, trauma. The repetition hardly registered as such; he knew what you meant. "Been staying at Stark Tower since I've been back in America," 

"Wakanda," you mumbled, mostly to yourself. 

"Yeah, Wakanda. The Tower is… not exactly a home, but it's safe and it's somewhere to sleep," 

"'Kay." A slight nod was all you could muster. 

You closed your eyes and let Bucky gently move his thumb over the exposed skin on your arm. Since it all began, you'd been cold. It was cold outside between the broken homes. It was cold in the rec centre, despite the mass of human movement. But in the back seat of the sleek black car, you were warm. The hoodie you'd been picturing in your mind for days was crossed off the wish list. Suddenly, you were glad to be in a t-shirt, glad to feel skin on skin. 

Bucky's hand was warm. You wondered if his other one was, the one made of new vibranium and Wakandan technology. A combination of sleep deprivation and strange comfort led to you briefly opening your eyes and looking across Bucky's lap to where his left hand rested on his thigh. You reached out and took the hand, pulling it closer. 

"You can feel everything?" you asked. 

It was more than rude, but he forgave you. Usually people were too afraid of him to ask curious questions, so your bluntness was kind of refreshing. "Yeah. Pressure and temperature, at least," he answered, flexing his fingers in demonstration. 

"Can you feel this?" 

With the lightest touch, you traced patterns over the palm of Bucky's hand. He nodded, letting you trace seams and map his hand like you were charting a course to somewhere important. 

"Are-" Bucky went to speak but stopped himself, starting his sentence again. "I know this is a… I don't know, a dumb question, but how are you?"

At first, Bucky tried to not involve anybody else in his search for you. Eventually, he had to explain to Steve and Sam, who kept asking where he was disappearing to. Earth had been invaded - what was more important? He had to talk to F.R.I.D.A.Y. too, so he assumed Stark would find out he'd been on the hunt for one girl. Bucky had half expected people to laugh at him. Or maybe even warn him against ruining an innocent girl's life with his own chaotic one. He was _the_ Winter Soldier after all. Nobody had though. He'd been left with the resources he needed. 

On Bucky's way out of New York, Stark had even phoned in, left a voice message. "Yeah, hey, Barnes… Look, if you find… if you find her, you can bring her here… What's one more stray?" 

It made him feel like a massive idiot, like he was getting too big for his boots, but Bucky asked the agent to go into each building full of survivors and check for you. He knew going in himself would make a scene, disrupt the peace people so truly needed. The agent complied, of course. The first three times the agent had returned, he shook his head solemnly - "Sorry, Sir." Each time Bucky had reminded the agent that a) it wasn't his fault, no need to apologise, and b) he really didn't need to call Bucky 'Sir.' 

Bucky knew you were alive, so you had to be somewhere. And when he watched you trot outside the rec centre, finally knowing where somewhere was, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders he didn't know was there. 

Three nights and four days wasn't a long time, especially not by Bucky's standards, but he'd _missed_ you. Even less than four days were the few moments he'd spent carrying you to safety. It wasn't like he'd gotten to know you. It wasn't like you were looking spectacularly beautiful. Honestly, Bucky had no fucking idea why he couldn't stop wondering where you had ended up and if you were okay. He had no idea what was driving that immense pressure coming from inside him to find you. 

None of that mattered. You were tucked safely into him, holding his hand like it hadn't been the thing to kill countless people. 

"You must have saved so many people," you said suddenly, ignoring his question not out of rudeness or deflection, but out of distraction. You were replaying it all in your head, imagining how Bucky must have swooped in and rescued other people stranded like you. 

When Bucky didn't reply, you looked up at him. His expression was almost neutral, but erring on the side of confusion. His head cocked to the side a little, then his eyebrows pulled together. 

"You mean, like…" 

"Like me," you confirmed. 

"Uh, no… not really. I'm more a… frontline combat kind of guy," 

"Thought you were a sniper?" 

Bucky smirked. "Yeah… I mean I'm not… They don't send me looking for… civilians, people. The others are better at that," he tried to explain. He could see you didn't understand. "People see Captain America or… fuckin' Thor and know they're saved. Clint's good at it too. They're… _people_ people, you know?" 

You were frowning so much it almost looked childish. It was your thinking face, and Bucky didn't want to think it was entirely adorable, but it very much was. 

"Then what are you?" 

"I'm a… frontline combat, call me when there's a war not a press conference, kind of guy… I guess…" he said, repeated with flair. It was hard to read the tone in his voice; you couldn't tell if he was glad or sad about being that _kind of guy_. 

"What about me?" 

Quiet again while he thought, Bucky racked his memory. "You're… You're the only one…" 

Bucky had saved hundreds of people during war pre-Howling Commandos and post, and he had saved the literal planet alongside The Avengers, so you were not the first person he had saved by any stretch of the imagination. But he wasn't searching for civilians the day he found you. He was stalking the enemy and killing them. You were not meant to be there. But you were. And if Bucky wasn't, you would have died. It made you the first and only individual person to be 'saved' by Bucky Barnes in the traditional help-me-Superman kind of way. That fact had only just become clear in Bucky's mind. 

As Bucky figured it all out, you were watching him carefully, trying to read his mind. His blue eyes were glazed over, but finally came to refocus on you. He smiled softly, and it was very identifiably sad. 

Then, unpredictably, he said, "How about we don't talk about the world ending, and we talk about how there's a hot shower waiting for you in New York." And just like that, as quickly as that strange darkness flashed across his face, it was gone. Replaced with a bright expression and casual smile, Bucky's face was reassuring again. 

"Shower sounds good," you agreed. 

"And food. What do you feel like?" 

"Pizza," you replied immediately. Pizza, always. 

Bucky laughed. "Probably need something a bit more… nourishing than pizza, darlin'. Vegetables, ya know?" He almost surprised himself with how quickly he seemed to snap into a caring role. He'd not played that part since Steve was small, sick. It felt good. Natural. 

It kept going like that for a while. Bucky's constant small talk chatter keeping you on the upside of consciousness. You weren't sure if he was doing it on purpose. If he was worried a nap would ruin future sleep, he was definitely mistaken. 

An hour into the trip, you looked up at him again. You'd sunk deeper into him. "Thought you said you don't talk that much," 

"Don't normally… Why? You got a problem, punk? Am I boring you?" he teased, poking your side a little. You tried to swat him away but you used your injured hand. The bandages frayed and dirty moving through the air were a sudden reminder. Warm. Safe. Comfortable. Almost happy, even. But that wasn't the case everywhere. Even if the terror seemed so far away, it was still just out there. You went quiet. 

Bucky repositioned you in his arms then, dragging you across the back seat so he could sit on the far left, leaning half on the backrest and partly on the door. He held you so you could fall back on him entirely. His right arm was a secure vibranium seatbelt. His left one was free to move his hand around. He settled on running fingers through your hair. Surely it was full of knots and grit, but he didn't seem to find them. Very quickly, you fell into a shallow nap. 

…

Bucky was trying to wake you gently, but you were hard to stir. He laughed as you frowned hard, slowly coming out of a fitful sleep. When you sat up and looked around, you were confused. The car was no longer in motion, and had come to park. It was difficult to see out of the tinted windows. "Where…?" you mumbled, not bothering with the rest of the question. 

"We're home," Bucky replied, getting out of the car and closing the door. Inhumanly fast, he was opening the door on your side, offering a hand to help you out. 

Shaky on your feet, you let Bucky's hands linger around you as you found your footing. Looking back into the car, you couldn't stop the natural urge to check you had everything - your wallet, phone, keys… But those things didn't exist anymore. 

"Do you want any of that?" Bucky asked you, motioning to the sleeping bag. 

Your head was shaking no before your mind had really decided, and you closed the car door with slightly too much force. Wincing at the loud thud, Bucky felt bad for you. He often felt bad for people; everything he'd been through somehow made him more empathetic. 

"Stark doesn't normally just let people in the back door like this… But it means if you wander off F.R.I.D.A.Y. will probably lock you in a room." 

It was easier to nod than ask who 'Friday' was and how they'd locked you in a room. 

Bucky took your hand and began to walk. Stark Tower was designed to be somehow both easy to navigate but just as easy to get trapped in - just in case that's what Stark wanted. As Bucky led you down hallways and into multiple elevators, you knew you'd never be able to find your way out without him. It didn't bother you much. The world beyond the Tower was frightening and cold. 

The only thing you really took notice of was the distinct lack of people around. Between the car and Bucky's suite, you only passed two others. There was an agent in the first elevator. She greeted Bucky with a monotone, "Sergeant," before hitting the button for twentieth floor, apparently knowing Bucky's path. 

The second person was a little more animated, but also addressed Bucky as Sergeant. When he said it though, it felt like a term of respect and endearment. "Serge!" he called as he turned the corner into the hallway you were making your way down. "Heard you'd be here, Sergant." Bucky stopped to shake and pat the back of the man. He was dressed like the driver and elevator agents, but seemed far less robotic in his professionalism. 

"Yeah, taking some quick R&R. I'll be back out soon," 

"Take your time. Don't think you owe us overtime or nothing," the agent said, smiling wide. 

Bucky shrugged and stepped to continue on his way, his hand still holding yours firmly. "Be safe, yeah?" 

"Always, Serge. You get some rest." 

In the next elevator, Bucky ran his thumb over the back of your hand. "Figured you're too tired for introductions," he offered quietly. Smiling weakly, you nodded. "Don't worry - he'll go ask someone about you as soon as he can… Bunch of gossips." 

At the door to Bucky's suite, he didn't produce a key of any sort. Simply, he said, "Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," out loud. You looked around, confused, then the door made a small clicking sound and Bucky opened it. 

Inside, coming simultaneously from everywhere and nowhere a warm voice greeted you both. "Good evening Sergeant Barnes. Welcome Y/N," 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., I told ya to just call me Bucky," 

"Boss says only your friends call you that," the voice retorted. You could hear the sass in her voice. 

It stumped Bucky, and he smirked and looked around, annoyed he couldn't face any one spot to speak to her. "Did Stark tell you not to be my friend?"

You thought maybe… she… had gone, but then, "Boss isn't the boss of me… Bucky." 

Bucky laughed, and the sound made you spin to face him. His nose was crinkled up in amusement and he put his hands on his hips. Bucky noticed you watching. "That," he pointed up at the ceiling, "…is F.R.I.D.A.Y. She's Stark's… A.I. Kinda runs the place. If you need anything, just ask her. She can hear you anywhere," 

"But I only come when called," she added, seemingly disapproving of the creepy explanation Bucky offered. 

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," 

"You're welcome. Have a good night."

You were still looking around for her when Bucky laughed again as he watched you. "Takes a bit to get used to, but you will. If me and Steve can, you can." 

Nodding in response, you glanced around the space. Already it was overwhelming. There were floor to ceiling windows, and you could see all of New York from them, even from the other side of the room. You couldn't regulate your emotions. It was like anything you'd felt in your life had a sudden renaissance, all of them fighting to have their fifteen seconds of control of your mind and body. 

Slowly, Bucky approached. It wasn't until he was right in front of you that you even noticed him. 

"What do you need?" he asked, reading your expression and each movement of your body very carefully. "Don't answer that… You probably don't know what you need, yeah? How 'bout… Shower first." 

He was patient. He could probably stand in the one spot for hours without moving if he needed to - if you wanted him to. But you didn't, of course. The problem was that you didn't really know what you wanted. Logically, you knew you should eat. Sleep. Clean. Facing choice, free will, for the first time in days felt alien. 

"I…" you tried, but your voice was shaking and didn't sound familiar. "I… I don't know… Can… Can you just…"

What exactly were you asking for? 

"Look after you?" Bucky tried. 

Aim. Fire. Bullseye. 

You nodded, bursting into tears. Bucky closed the gap between you, wrapping you up in his arms like he'd done before. Your own arms were folded, pressed tightly between your chest and his. 

"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'," Bucky whispered, not trying to hush you. "We're gonna get you in the shower, then put you in bed. Go from there…" He kissed the top of your head. "I got you, Y/N."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, a bridging scene of a chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. So, basically I'm stuck with where this story is going. I have one scene in my head that's kinda like, a few months ahead of where the characters are now. I can probably use that scene in a different fic. If you like this story and want it to be updated, please please please comment with suggestions/ideas. I need so much inspiration for it right now. I love you! Thank you! Find me on Tumblr @buckyreaderrecs.

Bucky had left you in the bathroom, shower running and a change of clothes on the vanity. Your mind had split in two, and the smart and self-aware part was floating somewhere above your body, watching you not move an inch. The other part was trapped, frozen. 

On the other side of the door Bucky was deciding what to do. He knew you'd not stepped under the water. He could translate human sounds, human movement. 

"Y/N?" F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice spoke to you. "Sergeant Barnes has asked if you require assistance," 

"Bucky," you whispered. 

"Yes, Bucky," she confirmed, then waited. She waited some more, then disappeared back into the building. 

There was a small knock on the door and it opened slightly. "I'm coming in," Bucky warned. 

When you were exactly where and how he'd left you, he sighed and moved to turn the shower off. 

"I can-" you tried, but stopped when you realised you had nothing to say. Not really. 

"It's okay, Y/N. I know you need sleep, but you'll feel a whole lot better waking up clean… So, let's try this instead, huh?" 

You watched Bucky fill the enormously large bath tub with water. It took a couple minutes, and he remained silent. While it was comfortable, you felt useless and that was negating any comfort. You mustered all your energy and managed to pull off your jacket. It dropped to the floor with an anticlimactic noiselessness. The out-of-body part of you could feel the tears sliding down your face. The other part could not. 

When the taps had been turned off and the water ready, Bucky stood. "I can get someone else?" he offered. At the confusion on your face, he clarified, "A woman…" 

You shook your head. The mere thought of having to interact with someone else was exhausting. 

Bucky nodded, understanding how you were felt better than you did. "S'okay. Here. I'll just… help… and when you're ready to be alone, just… let me know." 

But the thing was, and you both knew it, that you wouldn't ask him to leave. You let him slowly undress you, help you into the bath and sit. It wasn't romantic and it wasn't making your toes tingle and mind drift. It was clinical and clean. 

Bucky sat on the bathroom floor, his back leaning on the bath facing away from you. He planned on staying there for as long as it took for you to begin to move, to pull the washcloth into the water and clean yourself. He would have waited all night, but when the water started to cool and you watched goosebumps rise along your arms, both halves of yourself were pushed back together. 

"Bucky," you said when you were ready. "I can… I can get out by myself," 

"Alright. I'll wait outside for you," he replied gently, getting up and graciously walking from the room without looking at your shivering body. 

The clothes he had left were very expensive Stark branded pyjamas. They were warm and soft, and made you want to cry again. You tried your best to avoid the mirror's reflection as you got dressed and left the bathroom. 

Bucky was leaning against the wall opposite the door when you emerged. 

"Bed," he said, holding out a hand. 

You took it and let him pull you along, into a room with a sweeping view of New York sleeping while DC was burning. 

"In," Bucky ordered, pulling the sheets back, helping you climb in. 

He tucked you in like a mother would, kissed your forehead before moving away. Kneeling next to the bed, he watched you for a second. Your eyes closed and you melted into the bed. Maybe you were already asleep. 

"Thank you for finding me," you mumbled out. _Not asleep then._

"Thanks for waiting." 

Bucky sat beside the bed until your breathing regulated. 

Out in the dark living space of his suite, he phoned Steve. 

"You sound tired," Bucky greeted, worried. 

"You know me, Buck." 

_Yeah,_ he knew Steve. He'd die of exhaustion before stepping off the battlefield or leaving anyone stranded. 

"I know you ain't useful to anyone half dead. You need to get some sleep," 

"I will," Steve replied. 

"I'll call Sam," 

"I'll sleep!" 

There was a pause in the conversation then. 

Steve stared slowly. "What are you gonna do with her?" Bucky thought about it for a moment. Steve continued, "She's got a life… Had a life, at least. We can fix her broken bones but… We're not really equipped to help her if, you know," 

"I know," 

"We barely keep ourselves together," Steve added. 

"Yeah, I know… Look, I don't know what I'm doing. She's just- I don't know. I can help her. I _did_ help her. She's-" All the things you were rattled off in a list in Bucky's head; he hadn't realised the list was so long. 

"It's alright," Steve said. "Anyway, Sam will be back there tomorrow night. Wanda and I are gonna stick around, see if we can help find anyone under the rubble. Tie up some loose ends. Okay?" 

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you soon, Steve," 

"Love you," Steve said, mostly out of habit. 

"Love you too. Get some rest, punk." 

Steve laughed as he hung up. 

Maybe he was right, Bucky thought. Maybe you'd wake up more hurt than he knew. More hurt than he could heal. But, Steve was definitely wrong about one thing. They weren't just barely keeping themselves together. They didn't exist in lonely isolation, drowning in their grief and trauma. They had each other and what that meant, what that did for each of the Avengers was insurmountable. 

So, Bucky would be that for you. If your life in DC was still there, he'd help you find it. If it wasn't, he would be your shelter and he would give you everything you needed to rebuild. 

And, he told himself, he would do all of that while not thinking about your beautiful softness all the goddamn time. He'd not think about you thinking about him as a hero, as someone truly good. 

Bucky sunk deeper into the couch he was sitting on, covered his face with his hands and groaned. 

Like he had been trained as an emotional support pet, Bucky's cat emerged from the darkness. Alpine crossed the room gracefully and jumped to sit beside Bucky. Every time Bucky pat Alpine, he was always struck at how fluffy the cat had grown since becoming Bucky's. 

"Alpine, man… Gotta stop bringing home strays, huh?" 

Bucky chuckled to himself, thought about how outraged Alpine would be if he understood Bucky. He nudged at Bucky's hands happily, though, demanding more pats. 

"Alright, fluff. Let's get you some food. Come on."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the road to recovery is x-rays and pain killers. Sometimes, it's freeeeeesh ava ca doo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I am overwhelmingly grateful to everyone who has read this story, and heard my call for inspiration. Because of you, this chapter exists, and I have a better idea of where to take this story. Thank you all so, so much. Honestly. I hope you love this.

Waking up in such a soft and safe environment took a hot minute. The danger was so far away from you and comfort was so close. Slowly though, your eyes opened and you tried to sit up. Sloooow mooootion. But then, pain. 

You'd apparently slept off the memory of your injured hand, leaning straight onto it. It hurt so badly that you felt dizzy, then quickly sick to your stomach. 

Within seconds of hearing you cry out, Bucky was at your side. "Alright, come on, darl'. Knew we should've gone straight to the doc when we got 'ere," he said, the latter statement directed at himself. 

Trying to shuffle to the edge of the huge bed was exhausting. Tears began to stream down your face, running over the flushing red skin. You were embarrassed, somehow feeling it through the intense pain. 

"Can you stand?" 

You could, albeit shaky and holding your arm close to your chest, terrified something would hit it. 

Bucky pressed a hand to your lower back and ushered you gently from the suite. 

In the elevator, he called to F.R.I.D.A.Y. "Tell me someone's up in med?" 

"Dr Cho is in D.C. but has left Medical to Dr Reyes," 

"Okay. Tell her we're on our way," he asked. 

"Already done," 

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y." 

Bucky turned to you, watched you struggle to keep your eyes open. He frowned, then cupped your face in his hands. The vibranium was cool. 

"You're gonna be okay, Y/N. I know it hurts, but trust me - I've seen worse." 

He wasn't being dismissive, just trying to pull you from the pain for a second or two. It worked; you offered him a weak smile. Bucky leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose. You could smell toothpaste. He must have been in the middle of getting ready for the day when you woke up. 

'Medical' was a whole floor. Research happened in the east wing, and the trauma centre existed in the west. 

Dr Cecilia Reyes was ready, waiting for your arrival. "Barnes," she greeted. "You found her then," 

"Word travels fast, huh?"

"Oh, you know… Winter Soldier on a mission to find a girl. That kinda thing gets people talking," she replied with a smirk. 

Bucky liked Cecilia. She was tough, raised in the Bronx. He liked that despite her power, she opted for a relatively normal life. She was good people. 

"Well, welcome," she said to you, leading you to a private room. "I'm Dr Reyes. Heard you've banged up your hand pretty bad?"

"Yeah," you managed to squeak out. 

"Scale of one to ten, how bad's the pain?" 

Ten. Definitely. "Uh… Eight," you lied. 

Cecilia snorted. "So at least a nine then? Don't need to be tough for me," she told you, smiling kindly. She nodded for Bucky to help you up onto the bed in the room. 

"I was okay last night," you said to her.

"Probably still in a bit of shock. Had a rough couple of days. Body's smart. Guess it waited to tell you it needed help," she replied. 

"Should've brought you here last night," Bucky said. 

"Nah, Barnes. Sleep is the great healer. She's here now. Let's see what we've got." 

An x-ray, backlit and brutal, showed a broken ring finger, broken thumb, and three breaks to your hand. Cecilia told you that all things considered, you were lucky; the breaks hadn't split skin, muscle, or tendon. She set a cast on your wrist, hand, and thumb, and stabilised your ring finger by splinting it to your pinky. 

"If you want, we can just cut it off and you can get one of what he's got," she joked during the process. 

"Hey! Too soon," Bucky said, feigning offence. 

She rolled her eyes at him dramatically. "What, like 80 years or something?" 

Bucky laughed, then smiled over at you. "It's all right, darlin'," he said, noticing your expression. "If I can't joke about it, what's it good for, you know?" 

"In her case, it's good for some top tier pain meds. Here - take two as needed. No more than eight a day. With food is better. And for reference, a can of Pringles does not count as a meal," 

"That felt personal," Bucky said, eyes narrowing at Cecilia. 

"Your diet is trash," she told him, matter of fact.

"Firstly, once you pop you can't stop. Even _I_ know that. Secondly, how do you know about my diet, _doll?_"

"_Doll_ me again, Barnes, and I'll-"

"What?" he interrupted. "Force field me to death?" 

"Joke all ya want, but it can be done." 

Bucky laughed again, fondly shaking his head at her. Cecilia held back a full grin. 

"Force field?" you asked, sitting quietly, letting the fentanyl you'd been given before the x-ray seep into your body. 

"I'll tell ya later," Bucky said, reaching out to fold stray hair behind your ear. 

"Alright, need anything else? You're not-" Cecilia started. 

"Nah, nah, I'm good. Thanks, Doc. We''ll get out cha' way."

They hugged like they meant it, and she left the room. 

Bucky turned to you. "I'd decorate that thing for ya, but Steve's the artist," he said, nodding at your cast. 

"S'okay," you whispered in reply. 

"Fentanyl working then?" 

Eyes closed, grinning, you nodded slowly. Bucky snorted. 

"Good. Guess we'll get some food in you then," 

"Pringles?" you asked hopefully as Bucky held your hips, helping you slide off the bed. 

"Whatever you want, darlin'." 

People pretended not to watch you and Bucky leave the trauma centre. It's kinda what people did in Stark Tower - pretend not to see and know what they saw and knew. 

"He's got a girlfriend" someone whispered. 

"No, didn’t he, like, go full hero and save her or something?" 

"Think we got more to worry about than who and what Bucky Barnes is doing," Cecilia said loudly to the room. She smiled though. _Good for him,_ she thought to herself. 

…

Before you _really_ knew what was happening, Bucky was handing you an iPad. 

"Sit. Ubereats us something," he said. 

You were on the couch, back in Bucky's suite. Looking around, you felt that awe again - floor to ceiling windows with New York views will do that. There was a light, knitted blanket over you. It seemed out of place in the modern apartment setting. 

For a good fifteen minutes since returning from the medical suite, you'd just been sitting there. Bucky had waited until you seemed more… coherent, to ask you to pick food. 

"You know Ubereats?" you asked, smiling, proud of yourself. 

Bucky snorted. "I know I'm old, but I'm not playing-bingo-with-senior-citizens old." 

You laughed and for a second, forgot about everything. 

"That being said," he added, "I did live through The Depression, and I do have a super soldier metabolism… So, you know, don't skimp on the food." 

You wondered what his dinner of choice normally would be. Order history! It looked like Bucky was working his way through every takeout option in N.Y. Nothing repeated. 

"Burrrrrrito?" you asked. 

"Yeah, darl'. Whatever you want," 

"I waaaaant… freeeesh ava ca doo," 

"That the drugs talking?" 

_Mental note to self: show Bucky Barnes memes. _

After the order was placed, you put the iPad on the coffee table in front of you. Bucky picked it up, shot you a grin, and disappeared for a while. You did consider following him - he felt like safety. But, you were slowly coming out of the fog of fentanyl and knew tagging along like a lost puppy probably would make you feel awkward more than anything. 

Bucky's voice floated through… superhero stuff, you assumed. Busying yourself with finding the remote, then being startled by F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s offer of help (_"Can I help you find something to watch?"_), you managed to fill the time until Bucky returned without having to really think too much. There was a feeling sitting in the back of your mind and the bottom of your stomach that you wanted to keep ignoring for as long as possible. It seemed… bad. And you weren't ready for bad. 

"Alright," Bucky said, coming to stand in front of you. "How we doing?"

You smiled, nodded. His expression shifted. Sceptical. 

"Yeah? You sure?"

"Ah-huh," you confirmed. 

"I'm just gonna run down and grab the food. Won't be a second." 

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you with only the television to keep you company. You tried to pay attention, focus on the show. But the volume was too loud, even on the lowest setting. It was agitating, stressful even. Switching it off, you were enveloped in silence. 

_Calm down,_ you told yourself. And yet, a heartbeat was pounding in your ears. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ You could hear your own organs now?! 

Suddenly, you found yourself at the window, looking down at the city. _How can everyone…_ You were thinking too fast, spiralling. But how could you think of anything else? How could everyone down there just keep going? D.C. was still burning. People had died. 

People. 

_Your_ people. 

Everything - your head, the room, your world - began to spin. 

_Where's… Where's…_ Where the hell was a phone?

"Y/N," F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice alarmed you, coming out of nowhere, but not enough to make you jump. "I'm detecting an elevated heart rate. Can I help you with anything?" 

"I… ah… You're just a machine," you muttered to yourself mostly. "Wait! No! Where's the phone?! I need a phone… I need to call…" 

Call who? Who would you call first? What would you do if…

You didn't hear F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell you where to find a phone, or ask again if you were okay. You didn't hear her tell you Bucky was on his way up. As soon as he walked in, he knew what was happening. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell me next time," he said while putting the takeout on the suite's small round dining table. "Y/N," he called. He stood in your field of vision, but not too close. "Y/N? Can you hear me?" 

"I'm… I need a phone," you said, voice frantic, pupils blown. "There's people…" 

"We can do that. Phone's right here," Bucky told you, pulling his cell from his pocket and holding it out to you. When you didn't take it, he slid it back in and held a hand out to you instead. "Y/N, take my hand. We're gonna sit down. Don't want you to fall and break any more bones," 

"How many days has it been?" you asked, your words pushed together, the letters overlapping. 

"I'm gonna come closer, okay? Coming to you." Bucky moved. When he could see it wasn't making it worse, he held on your good wrist, his other hand on your waist, and walked you to the couch. You followed along, mindlessly compliant. "It's been five days. Not everyone will be on the lists yet, but we'll call, yeah? Or, we can get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to do it for us." 

You were sort of nodding, but were still finding it hard to focus. Bucky waited another few moments, watching and assessing, before deciding he needed to intervene further. 

He put his left hand on your face, cupping the cool metal to your skin. Gently but firmly, he turned you to face him. 

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked, raising his right hand. 

"What?"

He repeated the question. 

"Three," you answered, dismissive and maybe even a little annoyed.

"Good. Now?" 

"Five. What are you doing?" 

"Now?"

"Two! What are you doing?!" 

"Distracting you," Bucky said. "Making your mind work on a task that isn't just panicking," 

"I'm not panicking," you told him. 

"Not now, 'cause it worked. You're still not breathing properly though,"

"I'm fine," 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Bucky called. 

She spoke, "Your heart rate is still elevated, Y/N, and-"

"Okay, I get it," you stopped her. 

"Just take a couple breaths with me. Don't need 'em to be deep. Just hold them for a couple seconds." 

As he called it, you took a breath in, two, three, out, two, three. You managed to do it twice before shaking your head and wriggling in your spot. 

"I'm not- I just-" and you were off again, rambling about people, phones, and things you needed to do. 

You went to stand, but Bucky grabbed you around the middle, pulling you down. Your back was to him, pressed to his chest, while his arms were wrapped around you. He would have let go if you fought him or cried out. But, you were limp and quiet almost immediately. 

As you clung to his arms, he rested his head on your shoulder and made soft hushing sounds. Bucky waited patiently until your breathing regulated. You had closed your eyes and let your entire weight rest on him. 

"I know how you feel. You're exhausted. Makes everything feel… bigger. But I promise you, it's gonna be okay," he told you, voice calm. Calming. 

"You can't promise that," you replied, voice weak. 

"I reckon if anyone can - it's me. Had a lot of life experience. And, got a lot of resources. Superhero perks," he laughed, trying to lighten your mood. "You trust me?" he asked, to which you nodded. "Good. So, trust me. I've got you. And right now, we've got some burritos that need eatin', and you need to tell me what freesh ava ca doo is." 

Hearing the words come out of his mouth was entirely ridiculous and you couldn't help but snort. It left a smile on your face. 

"There she is! Come on. Up!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr @buckyreaderrecs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to find your family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please make sure you read the tags - new warnings will be added as the story progresses. A warning for this chapter only: there are multiple mentions of food, and a joke about how much Bucky can eat. Possible trigger for eating disorders. It's brief, but I thought I'd flag it just in case. 
> 
> As always, I thank you for reading, and if you have any thoughts and feels, let me know in the comments! xo Rhi

The first night you'd spent at Stark Tower was forgettable in the sense that you had completely forgotten most of it. Vaguely, there was a bath, and Bucky, then bed. That was pretty much it though. So, it wasn't like the day after needed to do anything particularly special to be considered memorable. And yet, it was. 

As Bucky put all the Mexican food trash into the paper Ubereats bag, you flicked through channels on television. 

"Have you seen this?" you asked, stopping on Atlantis: The Lost Empire. 

"I know, I know! I don't know shit about anything, but in my defence, I've been busy helpin' to save the world since I've been… _good_," Bucky replied, highly defensive but also still in good humour. 

"Um… I just meant, 'cause it's a super underrated Disney movie. And nobody's seen it, like Hercules," you told him, holding back a grin. 

"Oh… Sorry. Sam's always yelling at me," he explained, throwing the Ubereats bag in the bin and walking back over the couch from the kitchenette. 

"About movies?" 

"About everything," he said, rubbing his face. "He's cut up about me missing, like, all of hip-hop." 

It made you laugh, which motivated Bucky to continue his bitching about Sam Wilson. "And! He thinks me and Steve should have more 'refined taste' in everything." He used air quotation marks, which Natasha Romanoff had taught him to use, much to the dismay of Steve. (_"Captain America."_) 

"Refined taste?" 

"Yeah, basically he loses it when he we like anythin' he thinks is bad. Like…" Bucky cycled through his list of favourite things. "The Fast and the Furious movies." 

An image flashed in your mind of Steve and Bucky, completely decked out in their respective gear, marathoning the films, cheering at every car stunt and use of the NOS button. It made you smile, genuinely happy. 

Bucky continues, "They ain't my favourite or anythin', but they're fun, ya know? He's probably just upset that whenever we get in car races it's mostly someone trying to kill us," 

"I guess that's… fair, but he's… _The Falcon_… that's super cool?" 

Bucky grinned, but quickly shook his head. "Don't ever tell him you said that, okay? Never tell Sam you think he's cool," 

"Is it like feeding Gremlins after midnight?" you asked. 

"I watched that one! And, yeah. It's exactly like that," 

"But it's not like you guys don't get to see cool things… and _be_ cool,"

"I guess… We're used to it?" Bucky thought for a second or two, wriggled into the couch and rested his arm along the back of it. You turned to face him, legs crossed and entirely attentive. "Before the war I loved reading about what new gadgets were comin' out. Used to drag Steve to anything with tech stuff. But then, Hydra. I wasn't really conscious enough to realise I was in the future," he told you, chuckling a little to himself like it was funny. It was so nonchalant that it shocked you a little. He hadn't stuttered saying their name, or shifted to a darker mood. "Whenever I got re-programmed, I was re-trained too. Whatever advancements they made, I learnt. Meant when Shuri fixed my head up, I wasn't that inept. Got it a lot easier than Steve that way,"

"Just movies and T.V. and stuff that you missed then?" you asked, feeling like you needed to keep him talking because you'd never heard anything so goddamn interesting. 

"Yeah. Hydra didn't exactly have a Netflix subscription for me," he said. You said nothing. "That was a joke. You can laugh," Bucky told you, softly nudging your knee. 

"I don't know how you joke about it," you said honestly. 

He shrugged. "You'll joke about all this too, one day," he replied. 

_No. No, I won't._

Bucky saw the conflict flash across you face. 

"It's not like there isn't things that still blow my mind… Wakanda, for one," he continued, pulling you from your thoughts. 

"Is it as cool as it looks on T.V.?" 

"Cooler. It's gotta be one of my favourite places. And when I met Wanda… She thought I was a bit of a meatball. Never met anyone with powers like hers, you know? She's amazing. And Vision. Still don't really get what he's about," 

"So, you are friends with Wanda Maximoff but you think Vin Diesel is cool?" you asked, affronted. 

Bucky laughed. "No. I think _the cars_ are cool. The stunts! Vin Diesel seems like a jerk." 

Another image flashed. Someone in the world, Vin Diesel, knowing that The Winter Soldier thought he was a bit of jerk. 

Bucky watched you laugh. 

"Come on, then. What's this one about?" he asked, turning back to the television. 

"Atlantis-"

"Underwater city? I'm in." 

That's about where you realised that Bucky Barnes was a massive nerd.

It took Bucky ten minutes to tell you that you needed to keep warm, putting the knitted blanket over you. It took twenty to have him scoot closer to you, his arm still on the back of the couch, behind your head. About half an hour in, Bucky said, "Yeah, this is better than Snow White. I love this little mole guy." 

Bucky was watching, listening for any signs that the lack of conversation had given you time to think, to spiral. But, it hadn't. Atlantis was a comfort movie for you, a distraction. He could see you smile and frown along with the characters. 

"It was pretty obvious that this was gonna happen," Bucky said at the high point of the plot twist. He was aiming for a reaction. You looked at him fast and dramatic. "I'm good at picking the bad guys. Kinda my job." 

At the rolling of the credits, Bucky asked, "Ice cream?" 

As he put a collection of Ben and Jerry's on the counter top, Bucky caught himself in a sudden realisation. He was keeping you busy. Eventually, you'd notice, or the day would carry on and bedtime would come; the quietness between 'goodnight' and sleep would crush you, pushing from you anxiety and grief. But first, Bucky thought, ice cream. 

"Half Baked," you said. Bucky handed you the pint and a spoon. 

You watched him open the Strawberry Cheesecake, Cherry Garcia, and Urban Bourbon. "Variety is the spice of life," he said grinning, his voice a strange mocking tone, like he was parroting someone you'd never met. 

"I genuinely don't know where all that food goes," 

"In here," he answered, lifting his shirt and patting his tummy. 

"Yeah, but like, do you have one of those trash compactor things that mooshes it all down super small?"

Bucky laughed. "Maybe. Who knows what's going on inside 'ere." 

You were sitting on a bar stool, leaning against the kitchenette's counter. Bucky put the spoons in the dishwasher and the uneaten ice cream away. He liked things in their place, you noted. 

"So," he said, too casually. It felt, correctly, like a lead up. "How are you feeling?" 

"Full," you answered, honest, but also not really. 

Bucky looked at you, nodded. "What else?" 

You dropped your gaze, breaking eye contact. A nervousness grew in you, the gatekeeper to all the bad. It was telling you to flee - answering the question wouldn't be nice. You could tell that Bucky wouldn't change the subject though. He could wait in that silence all day for you to speak. 

"I…" you began. "I don't know. There's just… a lot," 

"Yeah. That makes sense. There is a lot… Probably good to start telling me about it." When you said nothing to that, he added, "Or someone else. We can-" 

"I feel guilty," you blurted out, partly to stop him suggesting you talk to anyone else, partly because the gate was opening and the guilt as behind it in abundance. Bucky nodded like he already knew what you were going to say, and what you meant. "I… I'm here. Where I'm more than safe," you said, looking around at the suite. "But I haven't done anything to deserve it-" Bucky went to say something but stopped himself. "I'm not the most hurt, or the most useful person to save or anything like that. And then, I haven’t even looked-" That was it. The tears began to stream down your face, heavy and hot. You could feel them pooling in your shirt somewhere. The sentence you started was lost, completely drowned out by sobs. 

Bucky remained composed. He fetched tissues from the bathroom, took it upon himself to clear your face, ready for the next wave. It arrived immediately. "Come 'ere," he said, pulling you into him. There would be wetness and snot all over his hoodie when you would eventually move, but you didn’t think of that in the moment and Bucky really didn’t care. He stood between your legs, rocking you gently on the stool for a minute before you spoke again. 

"I haven't even looked for anybody," you said, so softly and so painfully that even priests in confessional booths would have hung their heads. 

"How could you?" Bucky asked. 

During the time before his head was really put back together, that is what everyone did with him. They challenged Bucky's questions, forced logic on him, rending much of the harmful conclusions he'd drawn about himself incorrect. It was a good strategy and he'd learned it well. 

You half shrugged and kept crying. A cycle had begun in your mind. You were crying because you felt guilty, but that made you feel selfish and stupid. You thought you should be crying for other people. All of that, of course, made you feel more guilty, starting the cycle all over again. But maybe that cycle was easier to loop on than any real feelings of grief and loss. 

"When were ya meant to have time to find people? Couldn't do it in the refuge centre. Too much goin’ on. And your hand was smashed, probably killin' you. And like Doc said - in shock," he said, paused, waited for a response. 

Bucky's hands were moving up and down your back with enough pressure to calm you sobs into softer hiccups and sniffles. 

"Yeah?" Bucky prompted. You nodded and shrugged simultaneously. "Okay, so, couldn't have done it on the way here or last night. You were exhausted. Could hardly keep yourself upright. Ain't much use to anybody like that." 

You covered your nose with a tissue and sat up. Even if he didn't care, you didn't want him to see you with a face covered in snot. Bucky had the tact to look away while he continued. You listened as you wiped your face clean. 

"This morning, whisked ya away to Medical. Then force fed you some food. And now, we're here. So, if you're asking me, darlin', not too sure when you think you were meant to do all this people finding, you know?" 

Bucky could see it in your face that you knew he was right. When you nodded, saying, "I guess," he felt completely victorious. 

You drank the glass of water Bucky poured for you, then took a breath in, two, three, out, two, three. 

"Okay," you said, voice almost normal. 

"Okay," he repeated in solidarity. 

"Can we find them now?" 

…

The room was definitely not for civilians, but nobody stopped Bucky from walking in with you. It was a buzzing hub of activity and urgency. Voices spoke fast, people moved faster. 

"It's kind of like a command centre," Bucky tried to explain. "Whenever there's a threat, we have a response team that do… I guess what would happen if there was an earthquake or somethin'. Search and rescue. Coordinating relief." 

You nodded and stayed close to Bucky's side, not wanting to get in anyone's way. 

"Sergeant Barnes," a very tired woman greeted. 

"Hey. I'm really sorry to-"

"No time for that. What can we do for you?" she cut him off. 

"Finding people that were in the attack zone," he replied. 

"Everything we know, F.R.I.D.A.Y. knows. Integrated systems. Find a computer, preferably not in here, and ask her. Anything else?" 

"No. Thank-" but she was gone. 

Bucky hooked an arm around your waist and walked you back to the elevator. 

"She was amazing," you said. 

Bucky grinned. "Never met her before, but yeah, lot of people like that around here." 

On a floor of the tower that was much calmer, Bucky and you sat in what you supposed was some sort of crazy high-tech boardroom. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

"James," 

"Oh, it's James now?" 

"Yes. How can I be of assistance?" 

The first step was making a list of everyone you knew who lived or worked in the part of D.C. that was affected. You named them, confirmed through social media accounts and DMV records. 

"Do you guys have access to, like, everything?" you asked Bucky. 

"Probably shouldn't answer that," Bucky replied, winking. 

Step two was all F.R.I.D.A.Y. "I work fast, but I'd like to check my work, Y/N," she told you. 

"If you can, can you check with-" Bucky went to ask. 

"First responder reports?" F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked. 

"Must be the day for being cut off by women smarter than me, huh?"

"I could be mistaken, James, but isn't that every day?" 

Bucky laughed, looked at you for back up, but saw you staring at screen in front of you. The list of names.

Once you'd actually made it, you realised there were likely less people to find than you first though. Your housemate, Lucas, was a bike courier. He may have been out of the zone, 50/50 chance. Elizabeth, your best friend, lived on the next block over. She was home when the attack happened. You were watching her Instagram live; she was feeding her pet snake, Salem. Then, the girls at the hole in the wall café you worked at, Glory. You didn't know who was shift, so you listed all five. 

There were more, but felt like naming everyone you knew would be greedy somehow. Bucky said, when you were ready, you could look through the list of the deceased. Even hearing the phrase made you feel sick though. 

"Do you want to wait here?" Bucky asked. 

You turned to him, ran your hands through your hair. "I don't know… I can't…" but whatever you couldn’t, you couldn’t even articulate. 

Bucky nodded. "How about we get some fresh air? When we get back, F.R.I.D.A.Y. will have something for us?"

…

Out on the street, everything was _loud_. The whole back-in-reality thing really took you off guard. Seeing the city from the top of the Tower was different to this. 

"I got ya," Bucky said, coming to walk right by your side. You looked over at him, and he offered his hand. You immediately accepted. 

As you walked by multiple cafés, you wondered if Bucky had a favourite, or maybe there was a secret superhero club behind a hidden door in an inconspicuous bodega or Chinese restaurant. Alas, earwax - no such luck. Bucky held the door of a standard looking café open. 

The guy behind the coffee machine nodded. "Buck," 

"Hey, Gee," 

"Seen ya's all on the news. Everyone okay?" Gee the barista asked, the genuine concern evident in his tone and expression. 

"Ah, yeah. You know - nothing they can't handle," Bucky replied; you suspected it was the party line. 

"Good, good. What can we get for ya then?" 

"Don't worry about it, bud. I'll jump in line." 

Gee shook his head and smiled as Bucky took his place in the queue to order. "You wanna grab a table? Or wait with me?" he asked you. 

"Stay," you replied, stepping closer to him. 

While you held your body in a way that shielded your broken bones from people's paths, it was easy being close to Bucky. He was probably very accustomed to being around the injured, so never accidentally hit the cast. You were grateful. 

Bucky reached out and curled hair behind your ears, then leaned in to kiss the top of your nose. It was intimate, and brought solace. It was also very public; as he moved away, started greeting the girl at the counter, you realised there were more than a few pairs of eyes on you. Turning from the room, you stood closer to Bucky and listened to their conversation. 

"You know I can't tell you that," Bucky said, leaning against the counter like he owned it. 

"But, like, it's over, right? We won?" 

"Tiff, would I be standing here if there was something else I could be doing?" 

Tiff nodded, made a face like she'd been let in on a state secret. "Hmmm," she pondered for a second. Then, with pep, "So, the usual then? For one of Earth's mightiest heroes?" 

Bucky rolled his eyes at her. "I hate you," he joked before looking at you. "What will it be?" 

You hadn't really thought as far as ordering. Already feeling self-conscious and spaced out, the burning in your cheeks was getting hotter. 

"Thinking maybe a pot of tea to share?" Bucky suggested, casual, but also sending you a quick wink - he was saving you again. 

"Tea's great," you said. 

After ordering, Bucky chose a couple of oversized armchairs by the window to sit in. He let you breathe, let you stare through the glass and people watch for a long time. He answered messages on his phone, checked in with Steve while you daydreamed. So deep in thought, or maybe just completely zoned out, you didn't even notice Bucky had made a call, or that the pot of tea had been placed on the small table between you. 

Bucky said your name, but you failed to move. He reached out, tapped a knuckle against your knee. You gasped, felt your heart skip a beat. 

"Sorry!" he said immediately. "Didn’t mean to scare you…" 

"No, it's alright. I'm just… um," 

"You're alright, darlin'. How do you take your tea?" 

It was a simple enough question, but you looked down at the table like it was all alien. 

"Maybe you can make your own," Bucky said, pushing the tea tray closer to you. "Give you something to focus on. Bring you back down to earth." 

… 

Although you were hardly touching your tea or the cookies the staff brought over as a gift, Bucky let you sit for much longer than what anyone normally would. It was starting to get dark, the café closing around you, when you finally seemed to become aware of the rest of the world again. 

"Oh. Should we go?" 

"Sure," Bucky replied, standing and holding his hand out again. 

After thanking everyone, you were out in the city, walking back to the Tower. 

The silence that existed between you and Bucky was a comfortable one, but the closer you got to your destination, the more nervous you felt. Something in your mind snapped, told you to try to _be normal_. So, you started to talk. Fast. And a lot. 

"Do you all go there? Like, the Avengers? It was nice. They really like you. The cookies were good-"

Bucky cut in, stopping you more than actually wanting to answer. "It's easier to go to the same places. The novelty of us eventually wears off," he told you. 

"Yeah, people don't really stop staring, do they? Must get tiring, having everyone watch you all the time. And treat you different." You internally begged yourself to shut the fuck up. 

"Guess I don't really know what 'normal' would be… Don't like people giving me free stuff all the time though. Don't need it. Not really a skip-the-line type of guy," he said. 

You wondered how much charity he needed after Steve brought him back into the fold. Instead of asking about that, you thankfully went with, "Must be nice sometimes though?" 

Bucky thought for a second. It was one of the changes in personality he experienced after Hydra. Bucky in the 30s and early 40s was a little bit of an attention seeker, a true lover of the limelight. Not so much anymore. He thought of you then - how you'd considered him to be a hero, and how you had needed him. How you still needed him. 

"Maybe there's a couple perks." 

You nodded, went quiet again. Bucky noticed that you switched between that frantic, almost manic state and scary quiet a fair bit. He rolled with it, a little notorious for the odd mood swing himself. 

It was in the elevator of Stark Tower that you started to get jittery. The palms of your hands started to sweat, but Bucky didn't let go. He also tried to not seem like all of his attention was fixated on you, but it was. When he took you back to his suite, rather than the crazy high-tech boardroom, he thought about explaining why, but figured it wasn't one of the main things on your mind. 

Sitting on the couch in the same place you'd eaten burritos for brunch, you pulled the knitted blanket back over yourself. 

"Ready?" Bucky asked, sitting down next to you and putting a glass of water and box of tissues on the coffee table. You nodded. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., how'd you go?" 

You felt sick, real deep down in your stomach. It was a pushing force, making you hot and uncomfortable. Suddenly, the blanket was too heavy and you pushed it away with a weird anger. 

Bucky wanted to hold you, but he knew the sensation of feeling trapped by grief. He gave you space and braced himself for what was about to hit you. 

"I'm not sure what the best order to deliver this is," F.R.I.D.A.Y. admitted. She knew the limits of her programmed humanity, and it was probably the most impressive thing about her. 

"Good news first," Bucky said. 

"I've located Lucas and Elizabeth. Lucas is currently residing in an apartment just outside the affected zone. It belongs to a Jacob Short," 

"That's his boyfriend's dad," you said, nodding to yourself. Lucas was safe. 

"Elizabeth is currently admitted to Howard University Hospital. She has a broken clavicle and humerus, and damage to the glenohumeral joint - all to her right side. She is in stable condition." 

You breathed out hard, then took a tissue to your face. You'd not even noticed that you'd started to cry. 

"Glory was destroyed," F.R.I.D.A.Y. continued. 

That's when you looked up from the patch of floor you'd been staring at. On the screen of the television, F.R.I.D.A.Y. had been showing you relevant things - the Facebook status geotagging Lucas at his boyfriend's family home, the rental agreement that showed who lived at that address, Elizabeth's medical records, even security footage of her in the hospital. 

You shouldn't have looked up. 

For a moment, Bucky didn't understand why your breathing had all but stopped. Average people don't get a slideshow to accompany their bad news. He looked at the screen. A photo, then another, showed the entire building Glory was a part of reduced to rubble. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., maybe we don't need the show with the tell," Bucky said. 

"No!" you yelled. "I need to see." 

If there was information, visual or verbal, you needed it. 

"I logged into WorkForce using your credentials to view the roster. Two people were working at the time of the attacks: Carly Underwood and Ellie Gilbert," F.R.I.D.A.Y. told you. Before she said it, you knew it. "I'm sorry, Y/N. Both have been put on the list of deceased. Carly has been identified officially. Ellie is pending, but using our facial recognition and matching, I can confirm it's her." 

You stood up, ripping the hoodie you were wearing off. If it was too hot before, now you felt like you were made of lava. 

Bucky watched you start to pace. Your expression was alarmingly flat. 

"The rest of your co-workers are safe. Only a Tara Constantine was in the affected area. She was on a bus moved to safety by Peter Parker." 

There was footage taken from somebody's phone of Spiderman saving bus and carloads of people. 

"I used your social media accounts to create an index of known people. As far as I can tell, you do not directly know anyone else on the list of deceased." 

The phrase was still making you feel sick. 

Bucky mistook that as F.R.I.D.A.Y. being finished. He thanked her, asked her to keep him updated if anything changed. 

"Sorry, Sergeant. There's more." 

Both you and Bucky went still. What else could there be? 

"Your parents, Y/N," 

"They live on the other side of the city. Probably worried about me, right?" You turned to the screen, expected to see a worried Facebook posted asking if anyone had seen you. How could telling them you were safe not be your first thought? _Stupid. Selfish._

On the screen was a grainy traffic cam photo of your parents driving. It was time and date stamped. 

"They're fine," you said. 

"Y/N, I'm sorry… Your parents aren't on the list of deceased-" 

"Yeah, because they're fine!"

Suddenly, you remembered you _did_ call them. You were still in the refuge centre, and it took you an hour to find someone with a phone willing to share. First, you called your dad, but it went straight to voicemail. Your mum didn't pick up. Only a month before, they'd had the landline switched off. How did you forget calling? 

"But using street surveillance, I tracked their car into the affected zone. They got caught in the attack-"

"No. No. They hate that part of town. I didn't even move in that long ago and they already hate it. There's no reason for them to be there," you said, angry. No reason… except you. 

"I checked through unidentified photographs-" she tried to continue, her voice noticeably more robotic than Bucky had ever heard it. He was grateful to have her then. 

"The what?" you asked, confused and flustered and still feeling so fucking _sick_. 

Bucky sighed, figured he should explain that one. "It's the same as natural disasters… When they find bodies, move them to try to identify them, they make a catalogue of photos to help. F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s saying she checked through them," 

"So? They're fine," 

"Our facial recognition and matching have a 100% accuracy record, but… I could be wrong," F.R.I.D.A.Y. said. 

Bucky knew she wasn't, and was discomforted by her attempt at gentleness. 

"Wrong about what?" you spat, already knowing. 

"I believe your parents have passed away,"

"Show me," you said. 

"Y/N, I-" from Bucky. 

"Show me!" you yelled, moving to the screen, standing so close you swore you could feel the electricity buzzing from it. 

The photographs from traffic cams were still up, static. You stared them down, waiting. 

Bucky walked to you, stood behind you, held his breath. 

F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn't speak again. She showed you all the photos of your parents she had found to base her conclusion on. The reach of her skills became apparent and terrifying. There was no way she and everything she could do, was legal. As photos from private accounts, devices, and websites flashed up, along with dozens from the DMV and work place IDs, you felt all the heat you'd brewed up drain from you. 

Your body began to meltdown - you needed to pee, your mouth went dry, and earaches formed out of nowhere. It felt like you were being stabbed in the lower back. None of it made sense. 

The screen went still again. 

"Show me," you said once more. 

Two overexposed photographs appeared on screen. Both were framed similarly - head shots of undeniably dead people. Also undeniable was the fact that they were the corpses of your parents. 

"Turn it off," Bucky said. 

The screen went black but you didn't look away. As long as you stayed there staring, the image wouldn't fade. You could see them in your mind. You could see the indent in your father's head, skull visible. You could see the blood on your mother’s face. Tape held their eyelids closed. 

"Y/N," Bucky whispered, standing close. He waited for a response. Time was ticking by excruciatingly slowly. "Y/N, I'm gonna help you to bed," he said, but you flinched, so he stopped moving towards you. "Okay… That's okay. You can stay-" but before he could end the sentence with 'here,' you screamed out a guttural cry that mutated into sobbing. 

Very quickly for Bucky then, time sped up again. It was moving too fast though. Your legs gave up, and he caught you only just before hitting the floor. You crawled out of his arms, along the floor, dry heaving between sobs and yelped of pain as you ignored the fact one hand was crushed. In the couple of seconds it took him to work out if you were going to throw up, you did. You puked all the Mexican and tea you'd had, then continued to crawl, making it close enough to a wall that you could lay on your side and lean against it. 

Bucky knelt in front of you, tried to pull your hair into the tie that was usually around his wrist. Once successful, he went to retrieve a cold, wet wash cloth. He wiped your face but gave up when the sobbing seemed to get louder. He could make out words sometimes. For the most part, there was nothing coherent in your mind to articulate. You curled up into a ball, switching between deep sobs and outright screams. 

Eventually, it all subsided into an even crying but you stayed in a tight ball. Bucky sat beside you, pressed close enough that he could feel each movement you made. After hours, once you'd gone quiet, Bucky whispered, "I'm gonna look after you, Y/N. Promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr at buckyreaderrecs. I post my own fic, reblog the best Bucky x Reader stories, and make lists of writers for you to browse through!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Bucky, while he watches over your grief-stricken sleeping body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Bucky’s suite in Stark Tower is mapped out in my mind. I have a sketched floorplan if you wanna see it? Lemme know in the reblogs/replies/messages. Also, there is a note at the end of this chapter; pls read. Love yas!

Gasping for air, you sat up, scrambled around in the darkness and screamed for your mum.

The lamp came on, lighting up the bedroom and bringing Bucky into focus. “Y/N, Y/N, come here. Come on.” His arms were around you, pulling you to him. “Stop. Stop. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He kept trying to secure your broken hand, but you were still yelling, trying to crawl away. Not sure what else to do, he let you go. You pushed yourself right off the bed, landing half the right way up. Standing, you looked around. What were you trying to do? Where were you trying to go?

You studied everything in the room, looking for clues.

Door. You ran, stood at the threshold, finding no answers in the darkness beyond. A dresser covered in books and journals. A record player, and stacks of vinyl. Beside table. Glass and of water. Clock. 3:27 am. A city behind a window wall. A bed. Huge. Bucky, sitting with his legs arched, defeated.

He watched you walk around the room lost and confused. But, maybe it was progress.

…

After you balled up against the wall in the lounge room, screamed until your throat burnt, you passed out. It took hours though. Bucky considered calling for Cecilia. A sedative might have eased your pain. But, your pain was so new, so private. He decided it wasn’t his place to invite anyone else into it yet. So, he waited.

Once you’d fallen asleep and he promised to look after you, he carried you to the bed and sat by your side. It was quiet in the bedroom; Bucky hadn’t felt the calm of quiet for a while. He missed it. So too had Alpine, apparently. The cat came slinking into the room, refusing to look at Bucky.

“Fuck,” Bucky said under his breath. “Where have you been hiding?”

Sometimes, when he knew nobody was around, Bucky would talk to the cat like he knew what he was saying. That night, while you slept, he told Alpine about you. As he heaped a double serving of food into a bowl, he apologised for forgetting breakfast. It was the first time he’d ever forgotten a meal. When he went out on missions, there was a roster of people tasked with looking after the fluffy white thing that lived with The Winter Soldier.

“Don’t like having someone else here, huh?” Alpine tended to hide around people he didn’t know. He was a bit of a myth to the Tower. “Promise you’ll like this one,” Bucky told him back in the bedroom, climbing onto the bed to sit by your side. Alpine joined him. “Think she’s probably got a bit of crying to do yet though.”

By about three in the morning, when Bucky felt sure you were going to sleep the whole night through, he settled down next to you and let himself sleep. Alpine was curled into his back, warm and loving.

Bucky woke at first light, an old habit he was slowly unlearning with the help of excellent blinds and strict orders to F.R.I.D.A.Y. to not let anyone come calling. That morning was different though. He got out of bed, put biscuits out for Alpine, checked in with the team, then spoke to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“That index of Y/N’s friends - does that have phone numbers?”

Bucky sat outside the bedroom, on the floor where he could see if you stirred but not wake you with his conversations.

Bonnie, owner of Glory café; boss and friend; answered in two rings. “Hello?” Her voice was already desperate.

Bucky then realised he should have practiced or asked someone else to do it. By his own admission, as he dragged you to safety through the crumbling streets of D.C., he wasn’t really a people person. Although, you’d very much disagree with that now.

“Um, hi. My name is… James. I’m a… search and rescue… officer,” he tried. Bonnie was tired, but hopeful; she didn’t question what he was saying. “I’m notifying… friends of Y/N L/N that she’s alive and safe,”

“What?! She’s- Does she- Where-”

“I can’t provide any more detail than that. Sorry,” Bucky said, hitting his palm to his head. _Idiot._

“What? Why? Who is-”

“Please pass the information on to the others that work with her,” Bucky added. Before Bonnie could ask how a ‘search and rescue officer’ knew about your job, Bucky said, “Thank you. Goodbye,” and hung up. “Fuck!”

Bucky was unsure of when he’d last done something so profoundly stupid.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., who else is in the tower?”

…

“I don’t know… This is a lot to take on, man,” Sam said seriously, leaning against the bedroom door frame.

“I know,” Bucky agreed, watching you roll over in your sleep.

Alpine, who had been asleep at the end of the bed, maybe trusting Bucky’s word that he’d like you, woke up. He looked at the men in the doorway for a good couple of seconds before trotting over to them. Bucky lent down and scooped the cat up. He nodded to Sam to move back to the lounge.

“So what do you need help with?”

“I tried to call her boss. You know, start to let people know where she is - that she’s alive.”

Sam smirked. “And how’d that go?”

“About as good as you’re thinking. I froze. Made up some really fuckin’ stupid cover story,”

“Wasn’t smooth?”

“Wasn’t smooth,” Bucky confirmed, letting Alpine jump from his arms onto the kitchenette counter.

“Did you think about telling the truth?” Sam asked, watching Alpine with distrust.

Bucky snorted. “Hi, The Winter Soldier here. I’ve got Y/N. Don’t worry, she’s passed out in my bed.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You and Steve are made for each other. Pair of drama queens,”

“Okay, what do I say then?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Sam sighed, looked around the space. “Where’d she puke?” he asked.

“Over by the plant,” Bucky replied.

Sam nodded, thought some more. “I don’t know, man. You’ve just got to be honest. This-” he motioned to Bucky vaguely, “-is a good thing. You’re doing a good thing. They’re gonna be happy,”

“But what if they don’t believe me?”

“Aliens just attacked their city. They’re living and breathing the unbelievable.”

Bucky nodded; Sam was right.

They talked some more, catching up and checking on each other in that subtle way soldiers do. When Sam left to find food, Bucky sat on the couch and stared at his phone.

Bonnie, again, picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” she greeted, sounding more tired than before.

“Hi… Um, I called before, about Y/N…” Bucky expected her to say something, but she didn’t. He took a breath and continued, “I just wanted to apologise. I, um, didn’t really…”

“Who are you?” she cut in.

“My name is James, but most people call me Bucky. Barnes.”

Bonnie laughed. “Bucky Barnes? Like, metal arm, Captain America’s Bucky Barnes?”

“I’m not Captain America's… but, yeah. That’s me,”

“Is this a joke?” she asked.

“No. Um, I can video call if you want proof?” Bucky asked. Sam’s suggestion.

“God, no. I look awful… I just… Yeah, okay. So… What do you have to do with Y/N?”

“I… rescued her, on the day of the attack. And, uh, she’s here with me now,”

“Right, of course you did. And she’s okay?”

“She busted her hand up pretty bad but it’s in a cast. But, ah, she knows… about Carly and Ellie… and… both her parents-”

“No!” Bonnie gasped.

“She’s asleep. I’m just gonna look after her here,”

“Yeah, well… Can’t really imagine anywhere safer than with the Avengers.”

Bucky felt less anxious as the call went on. When Bonnie didn’t wrap up the conversation, he kept answering her questions. He asked if there was anything he could do for her. She declined; insurance would rebuild Glory and everyone she loved was accounted for. And, there was nothing Bucky could do about the dead. 

Bonnie was just relieved to talk to someone who didn’t tell her everything was going to be okay. By the time they ran out of things to say, they said goodbye and Bucky promised to call again with an update.

Bonnie had given Bucky enough courage to call Luke, then Elizabeth. Elizabeth sobbed, both in joy that you were alive, and in grief for your parents. All up, Bucky spent about ninety minutes on the phone. He knew more about you, had a little insight into your life before him. By all accounts you were living a life of relative happiness. Whatever it took, he’d get you back to that. However long it took.

…

Lunchtime rolled around and you’d not woken up. Or, if you did, you had passed back out pretty quickly.

Dr Cecilia Reyes came to check on you. Like Sam, she stood at the door of the bedroom and put on a worried expression. “Wilson swung by,” she said.

“Told you about her family?” Bucky guessed.

“Yeah. Think he’s just worried about you, taking this all on,”

“I’m fine,”

“I know that. She won’t be though… I brought her these.” Out of her pocket, she produced a pack of triazolam. “They’ll knock her out, but won’t keep her asleep. She’ll do that herself. When she’s up, try to get her to eat something. And drink water,”

“Should she… I mean, is there anything else?”

Cecilia sighed. “Unfortunately not, Barnes. You’re doing everything already. But, you know… you should probably decide where she’s going.” She pushed off the doorway and made her way back through the suite.

Bucky followed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, is she going to stay with anyone you spoke to today? Or family somewhere?” Cecilia looked at Bucky. “Were you… You’re just gonna keep her here?”

Not once since meeting you and bringing you home had Bucky even thought of an alternative to you staying with him. Cecilia saw Bucky’s blank expression.

“Oh,”

“I mean-” Bucky went to say.

“No, no. It’s fine-”

“But I-”

“Barnes, it’s fine,” she said, putting her hands up. “You don’t need to explain. Let me know if either you need anything else, okay?”

Bucky sighed. “Thanks, Doc. Will do… Most of the team are back tonight, so you might be a bit busy,”

“I’ve always got time for you, _doll,_” she replied, grinning.

…

Bucky Barnes spent most of his time reading. He liked non-fiction best. He read about machines, history, revolutions, and bugs. That’s what he did all day, waiting for you to wake up. But, you didn’t.

He ate the freezer out of ice cream, and the suite out of any other food. There wasn’t much. “Gotta go shoppin’, hey fluff?”

It was around four in the afternoon when Steve Rogers walked in, carrying what looked like an entire supermarket’s stock.

“Buddy, you are my hero,” Bucky said, pulling things from the bags before Steve had a chance to put them on the kitchenette counter.

Steve laughed. “Figured your kitchen would be as empty as mine,”

“Mmmm. S'like your psychic,”

“And word is that nobody’s been in or out here all day,” Steve said, reminding Bucky a lot of Sarah Rogers and her disapproving tone.

“Maybe people should mind their business,”

“People are looking out for you, Buck. Can’t be mad at that.”

Steve and Bucky cooked together. An early dinner or late lunch. Something that made them feel like kids in Brooklyn, living together with not much between them.

Alpine sat in Steve’s lap while Bucky told him about you - the whole story, from start to finish in much detail. At the end, Steve rocked on his chair, tried to hold back a trademark shit-eating grin.

“What? What’s that look for?” Bucky asked, throwing a piece of food across the table at his best friend.

“You-” and he stretched that one word out, “-like her.”

Immediately, Bucky started to ramble. “Course I like her. She's… sweet. Doc likes her. She’s got friends that love her. Doesn’t deserve to be all messed up because-”

“No, nope,” Steve interrupted. “Not what I mean, and you know it. You _like_ her,”

“Steve, I’ve known her for a couple days. Most of that time she’s been passed out,”

“So?”

“So, we aren’t all the love at first sight, one true love, I’m gonna die alone, hopeless romantic, ya know?”

Steve snorted. “You get so bitchy when you’re embarrassed,”

“I’m not embarrassed!” Bucky almost-squeaked. Steve’s eyebrows raised dramatically. “Fuck off,”

“Whatever. I can see it in your face. You like her.”

There was no use arguing with Steve. Bucky conceded. “She's… I don’t know,”

“I remember when you used to know exactly what you liked about a dame you were sweet on… You’d go on about how she laughed at your jokes, or her red lips, or how she drank whiskey,”

“_Dame,_” Bucky repeated. Steve was an anachronism, still. “Guess it’s more complicated now,”

“Guess so,” Steve agreed. “Glad you found her,”

“Yeah, me too. She’d probably be dead if-”

“No, Buck. I mean, her. Specifically. I’m glad there’s something good comin’ out of this one,”

“Getting sappy in your old age, punk.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. The men shared a look that said they were on the same page, jokes aside.

“So, you gonna hang around for a bit?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah. We got that meeting at seven, but I’ll stay 'till then. Should I tell 'em you’re not coming?”

"Yep,” Bucky said, standing up and relocating himself to the couch. Alpine jumped from Steve and followed Bucky, finding a new place to nap.

…

Bucky spent the rest of the night watching things on his list. He started with Hercules, like you’d mentioned, then Sam’s recommendation of The Princess Bride. Bucky fell asleep on the couch, old episodes of The X-Files lulling him to sleep.

At two am Bucky woke, ate a bowl of Cheerios, then checked on you. You were still passed out, so he climbed onto the bed and watched your back rise and fall as you slept on your stomach.

3:27 am and you woke up gasping for air. After the screaming and crawling, and after you’d taken inventory of the entire bedroom, you looked Bucky.

“You’re safe. Do you know where you are?”

Your breathing was heavy, laboured; you had to push the air out through the gunk stuck in your throat. “Yeah…”

Bucky waited, not moving from where he was sitting on the bed.

The headache and haze of too much sleep had clouded your mind for those first few minutes. You were confused, stuck in your nightmare, but seeing Bucky focused you. You were alive.

But not everybody was.

Tears began to pour down your face again.

“Darlin’,” Bucky whispered, sitting up on his knees and holding his arms open. With no hesitation, you threw yourself into him. “I know, I know,” he said, holding you, letting you collapse into him.

For thirty more minutes, you sobbed. When you sat up on your own, Bucky held a glass of water to your lips. You put your hands around his and let him help you drink.

“What do you need?” Bucky asked, trying to read your expression and body language. You wanted to answer but were, in all honesty, numb, save for the pounding headache. “If you can, you should try to eat something.”

Although you nodded, you had a vacant and faraway glassiness to your eyes. For a second, Bucky considered just getting you back into bed and to sleep, but who knew when you’d wake up again.

Out in the suite, you sat at the round table and looked over at Bucky as he stood in the middle of the kitchenette. “Sandwich, maybe? How 'bout… Anything, actually. Fully stocked. Thanks to Stevie.” Bucky lined up jars of peanut butter, strawberry jam, Nutella, and marshmallow Fluff.

Something about the benign normality of a simple sandwich made you feel, at the very least, okay. It wasn’t easy to stand up, but you did. You walked to the jars and picked up the peanut butter and Fluff.

“Girl after my own heart.”

Bucky made fluffernutter sandwiches, handing you a spoon of Fluff halfway through. You stood at the counter, slowly eating. In the time it took you to finish your sandwich, Bucky ate his, made a second, and ate that too. It made you smile.

“I’ll make a cup of tea, and we’ll get you back to bed,” Bucky said, quiet, soft.

Part of you wanted him to act normal. Be a little bit more cheeky, or something. The other part of you was so sure you’d never be functional again, that you were more than happy to let Bucky take total control.

“Okay,”

“'Kay. Milk, two sugars,” he checked.

“How do you know that?”

“Café. We had tea,”

“Oh,” you said, nodding, trying to remember something that had happened less than 24 hours ago.

Bucky started to make tea. You watched his movements, your eyes following him around the kitchen. When done, he nodded to the bedroom, and you began to walk.

Without conversation, you got into bed and sat against the headboard. Bucky held out the mugs of tea to you. He climbed in next to you and took his mug, blowing on the top of it.

You snickered at the action. It made Bucky’s stomach flip.

“Excuse me?” he said, whipping his head around to face you.

“What’s the point in that? Doesn’t do anything,”

“Alright, well, I ain’t making you do it,” Bucky replied, grinning. You smiled back.

It had just gone 4:15. The sun would be up soon but the light wouldn’t easily find its way in. Bucky finished his tea, fished his phone of the bedside table. “Sleep music,” he said, looking up briefly. From speakers you couldn’t see, a familiar sound began.

“You listen to lo-fi hip hop streams?” you asked, the disbelief in your voice animating you in a way Bucky hadn’t seen since you woke up.

“Yeah, so?” he said, one eyebrow raised.

You shrugged. “Full of surprises.”

Bucky smiled.

When your tea was gone and you were tucked into bed, that’s when you started to think again. Feel it again. Bucky could sense the shift. “Here,” he said, sitting up and grabbing the box Cecilia had left. He punched two pills out of the sheet. You lifted your head just enough to let Bucky put them on your tongue, then help you wash them down with water. You didn’t ask what they were, but were grateful when you felt the swelling pressure of forced sleep shut down your brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things. Firstly, I’m thinking I might jump ahead in time, because logically the next step for Y/N would be to see her extended family, attend funerals, possibly even help with the planning. I’m not sure that this is something that would be entirely enjoyable for you as the reader of this fic. Let me know what you think? If you do want the painful reality of death mapped out like that, I can do it. Choose your own sad adventure lol.
> 
> Secondly, and still on the topic of grief, I just wanted to, I don’t know, just maybe say that because of my own experiences with grief and loss (most recently and most painfully, my big brother), I know how weird it is. It comes in waves, all the bad feelings, and sometimes you can sit there totally normal, even joke, and sometimes you don’t move for an entire day. I’m definitely using my own experiences to shape how Y/N is behaving. So, it’s not that I’m writing her as inconsistently sad, it’s that grief is an inconsistent effector of mood. I don’t know why I felt like I had to explain that, but I feel better for having done it. *shrugging girl emoji lol*


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have to go home, but Bucky there’s to help. Time begins to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who suggested ideas for Bucky’s musical tastes - [click here](https://buckyreaderrecs.tumblr.com/post/618068972491980800/a-list-of-music-you-weirdos-said-bucky-barnes) to see a the list you came up with. It be weird, yo. Also, [click here](https://buckyreaderrecs.tumblr.com/post/617982186404134912/so-far-away-buckys-suite) to see a shitty sketched map of Bucky’s suite in the Tower. As always, please let me know what you like and what you’d wanna see in future chapters! Love yas!

It was a Tuesday like any other. Overpriced lattes and underpaid baristas. News website paywalls on 80% battery life iPhones. The fumes and staccato of D.C. traffic. Everything was so blissfully normal. People felt like they’d had their fair share of other-worldly tragedy; the 2014 fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. and immense collateral damage it brought down on the city was a distant memory. Then, they came.

Part of a city with a population of 700,000 plus leveled in a matter of minutes. Terror stretched out for hours. But, like it often went, the public never really got an explanation. In the weeks following the attack on D.C., you overheard bits of conversations Bucky had on the phone or in the next room over. Hushed voices, sad sighs. It didn’t occur to you to ask because you just didn’t really care. You had other things on your mind.

After spending only four nights in New York, you were back on the road to D.C. with Bucky. You’d woken up the morning after sandwiches and tea with the fog in your head lifted a little. The day after that, you knew you had to go home and face reality.

Bucky had a bag packed before you even needed to work up the courage to ask him to go with you. He left Alpine in Wanda’s care, then took you down to the same basement car park you had entered the Tower through. Unlike that time though, you were able to survey the collection of cars, trucks, and motorbikes. It was impressive.

“I’ll take ya for a ride sometime,” Bucky said, watching you eye off the bikes against the wall.

_Yes._

Before twisting the key in the ignition of a black Escalade, Bucky turned to you in the front seat. “We can still fly… Quarter of the time,”

“I know,” you replied, nodding to reassure him. “I just, I don’t know, need the time or something,”

“Okay. Whatever you need.”

Four to five hours of driving gave you plenty of time to think.

One of the many awful things about losing family was learning things you didn’t want to know about. You didn’t want to know about body identification, or how hard it was to close bank accounts and redirect mail without the signature of the address holder. You didn’t want to hear that funerals couldn’t be held as normal, due to the sheer number of dead, or about how you may not be able to follow your parents’ will perfectly as directed. You didn’t want to have to know the sound of a mother finding out her child is dead; your grandparents wouldn’t get off the phone for hours.

It was a couple days of treading through the unknown, boots heavy and heart heavier. Each step you took, Bucky followed. He’d taken over when you needed, did anything he could. Sometimes that meant making calls for you, finding out when you were expected at ice arenas-turned-mass-morgues and letting extended family know what was happening. Sometimes it was just holding your hand, kissing your knuckles as you tried to complete the simple act of breathing.

Bucky could see when you were spiraling into those thoughts. When he caught you staring off into space for a little too long, he’d reach over and ruffle your hair. Start a game of I Spy. Or, the thing that really got you distracted for most of the trip, “Educate me.” He had nodded to the sound system in the car. 

A short list of music you introduced Bucky Barnes to that he liked:

· Childish Gambino, but only really the _Awaken, My Love!_ record

· Death Cab For Cutie

· Lana Del Rey, more for her voice than lyrics

· The National

· July Talk

A short list of music you introduced Bucky Barnes to that he did not like:

· Kings of Leon

· alt-J

· Grimes

By the time you rolled into D.C. just before dinnertime, Bucky was well and truly convinced in the healing power of Australian band Gang of Youths. “I’ve been there. Think it was ‘67,” Bucky said, no real tell in his expression as to if Australia was a good or bad time.

In the hotel room, another bourgeois space that felt Stark approved, you sat on the edge of the bed and looked out the windows. It was a different skyline than you were used to.

“Y/N? You should go have a shower. I’ll get some food,” Bucky said, dropping the bags and coming to sit next to you. You nodded. “Big day tomorrow. We should get some sleep.”

…

The first day back in D.C. didn’t feel like a homecoming. It didn’t really _feel_ like much at all. You’d woken up that day feeling numb, which Bucky told you was probably your brain getting ready to protect itself. As he drove you to where causalities were being held until identification, you figured he was right.

All day, Bucky watched you closely. He watched your face remain neutral, gaze distant, hands shake. You cried in the car, between the identification meeting and going to the house you grew up. Inside, you went quiet again. He helped you sort through cupboards and rooms, listened to you reminiscent about the past. That house was where you spent the first week in D.C. There were lunches and dinners with friends and families too. They were solemn meetings with brushed away tears and too-tight hugs.

Bucky introduced himself as James, hoped that maybe it would mean less people recognised him. He kept his leather glove on, shook hands with his right hand when he could. It was easier around your friends; they either didn’t give a fuck who he was, or they acknowledged the elephant in the room enough that it was a non-issue. Your family, however, spent a great deal of time watching him ghost you through their homes, too tired to ask why their niece, their cousin, their granddaughter was _still_ with the Avenger that had saved her. Regardless, they thanked him for his work, treating him like a veteran or maybe a firefighter.

The second week in D.C., the third after the attacks, was when the funerals started. Ellie’s first, then Carly’s. Late in the week, your parents.

In the chapel, Bucky walked you to the front row, sat you down and put a bottle of water and box of tissues at your feet. You weren’t sure where he’d pulled them from. “Do you need anything else?” he asked, glancing up at the growing line of people waiting to give you their condolences. You looked at him, tried for a small smile, and shook your head no.

When he stood up, you realised he was leaving. “Where are you going?” you asked, words rushed. You stood up, letting your bag fall from your lap to the ground. It was a fast movement that drew attention.

“I was gonna sit in the back. Let you be with your family,” Bucky told you.

“No. No, don’t go,” you said, reaching out for him.

“Okay, yeah,” he replied, holding you in the hug. “It’s okay.”

That’s when you started crying, and you didn’t really stop until you fell asleep in the hotel room a little past 2:00 am.

…

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Bucky asked. Again.

Standing out the front of a building that once was your apartment block, you nodded. Bucky had pulled some Avenger strings to get you into the part of the city now blocked off to civilians. Rubble was still be sifted through, even three weeks later. There were still bodies being pulled from the wreckage, and at some point precariously standing half-buildings would need to be demolished entirely to make way for something new.

Bucky lead the way through hollowed out rooms and over piles of brick, following your directions to where your apartment would have been. There wasn’t much left.

“You were second floor?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Only one level above us, but guess that’s covering everything.”

There was nothing to find. Any objects of your past life would just be relics, heaved into the construction trash when the time came. You asked Bucky if he thought you should take photos, for insurance or whatever.

“I’ve got all that sorted, darl’. You don’t have to worry about any of it,” he replied.

Bucky had had a lot of time to kill while you slept through your grief. He spent much of it sorting out the logistics of your life: insurance, pausing internet and phone contracts, paying off your student loans, creating bank accounts in your name and filling it with the money he had that he didn’t otherwise know what to do with. He didn’t tell you about all of that, just enough to put you at ease.

You didn’t question him, just nodded and followed him back to the car.

D.C. became nothing but a skyline on the horizon as you headed back to New York.

…

**Three weeks later.**

In Stark Tower, where Bucky went, you followed. You watched him essentially beat the shit out of Steve and Sam in training (then have the favour returned) and throw paper balls around the suite for Alpine to fetch. When he went to top secret post-D.C. attack Avenger meetings, you waited patiently, sometimes daring to find your way to wherever F.R.I.D.A.Y. told you Cecilia was. Even though you were sure she was just being kind, you still liked her company.

With little else to fill your time, you began to spend hours in the insanely large bath tub in Bucky’s suite. You’d never seen Bucky use it, and you couldn’t really imagine any of the occupants of Stark Tower lounging around in bubbles and luxury. It seemed to be more for show than anything else.

The first few times Bucky had returned to the suite while you were in the bath, he’d simply knocked on the door, checked on you. Once sure you were alive and happy, he’d retreat. Mostly he’d lay on his bed, reading and watching his way through his list.

That didn’t last long.

Bucky had been gone all day; you’d not even been awake when he left the suite. Usually, he’d swing by between things, or at the very least send a message through F.R.I.D.A.Y. It was almost six when you heard from him for the first time that day, his knocking on the bathroom door, loud with urgency.

“Bucky?” you called from the bath, getting up.

He heard the water and became suddenly aware of his actions. “Don’t get out, Y/N,” he said quickly, still urgent.

“Buck-”

“It’s okay. Stay there. Sorry. I just- You’re okay?” he asked, trying to sound normal again.

Standing in the bath, you felt torn between wanting to follow his instructions but wanting to see him. “Bucky,” you said, sitting back in the tub. You pulled the copious froth of bubbles closer to you, covering your body entirely. “Just come in.” He was silent behind the door for a count of one, two, three, four, and the handle twisted. “I’m covered in bubbles, if that’s what you’re worried about. But it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

Bucky entered the room, looking down at you as he leaned against the vanity. “That was different. You okay?” he asked.

“Sit,” you ordered. He complied, folding down to lean his back against the bath and his head on the rim. You moved to be closer. “Hi,” you whispered.

Bucky smiled, rolled his head to the side to look at you. The urgency was gone, quelled by the simple act of seeing you. “Hey. Be careful - don’t get that wet,”

“That’s what the bag is for,” you told him, holding up your arm to show the plastic bag you’d duct taped around your cast.

He smirked. “Right. Genius.”

Shrugging, you replied, “Thanks, I try… You sounded stressed. What’s up?”

“Nothin’. Just haven't… you know, left you all day without checking in before,”

“That’s why you’re knocking the bathroom door down? Think I can’t go a couple hours without you?” you asked, tapping the tip of his nose to annoy him.

It didn’t annoy him.

“Think _I_ can’t go a couple hours without checkin’ on you,” he said.

“I’m okay,” you told him.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You rested your head on the rim of the bath, right next to his. You could see him searching through your expression for proof. Was it a good day? Had you kept your head above the tidal waves of grief? When his gaze settled on your eyes, you smiled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Stay here with me?” you asked.

He nodded and watched you sink back under the bubbles.

…

“I don’t think I can do this,” you said, looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Bucky was in the doorway behind you, watching you put on makeup in the first time since forever. He’d insisted that you do a lot of online shopping. Clothes, shoes, accessories, books, make up, whatever you needed for comfort. Anything and everything you needed to feel halfway normal. It wasn’t really doing the trick.

“Kasey’s your friend. She’ll, you know, not expect you to be perfectly alright,”

“I know, but…” You shrugged. It felt nice to be in brand new jeans. The fabric between your thighs was fresh, not thinning yet. The jumper was cosy. You looked decent. “I don’t know what to say to people.”

Because Bucky was coping more than well with everything life had thrown at him, sometimes you forgot that whatever you felt, he’d experienced too, but probably a whole lot worse. Yeah, pain is relative and all experiences are valid, but _fuck_, nobody had known trauma like Bucky Barnes. Even then, he never made you feel bad for complaining.

“I remember when I first joined the team. I didn’t know what to say to people. And people really didn’t know what to say to me. Eventually, I think we all just realised there wasn’t much that needed to be said. I just wanted to… keep going. Everyone wanted to move on. So… Maybe you don’t need to say anything to Kasey. She knows what’s happened. She just wants to see you.”

You turned around and nodded. Bucky could see you were on the verge of tears. He opened his arms, and you stepped into them immediately, burying your head completely. Bucky chuckled a little and rocked you side to side.

“Can you come?” you mumbled into him.

He sighed. “Didn’t you tell me the other night that you don’t need me to baby you so much?”

“It’s not babying. It's… whatever. I don’t know. Please?” you asked again, looking up at him.

“Course, darlin’… Come on then. Don’t wanna be late.”

You walked hand in hand to the café you’d visited once before. It was just before you found out about your parents though, so you didn’t really remember much. At least, that was until the guy behind the coffee machine lit up like a kid on Christmas when he spotted Bucky walking in.

“Buck! How are ya, man?!”

“I’m good, pal. How you been?”

It was a slow Wednesday, somewhere between breakfast and lunch. The café wasn’t too crowded, so you spotted Kasey immediately.

“Y/N!” she said, standing up and crossing the café to throw herself into your arms.

Bucky wrapped up his brief catch up with Gee to step over to you.

“Kase, this is Bucky. Buck, Kase,” you introduced.

She looked at him in awe for a second, then slowly stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said very formally.

He smirked, shook her hand. “You too,” he replied.

“Should we sit?” you prompted.

Kasey nodded, then tried to simultaneously walk back to the table she’d picked whilst not looking away at Bucky. You didn’t blame her. Even dressed as inconspicuously as possible, he was still ridiculously handsome. It actually helped. Sometimes, when you felt that sick, sad darkness creep up, you’d just find Bucky and watch him do whatever it was he was doing. It was better than Netflix.

“I Googled what I should say,” Kase blurted out. “Like, instead of 'how are you’ or whatever.”

It made you laugh, which she probably didn’t expect. “What did Google say?”

“That I should ask what you want to talk about, but that seems just as awkward," 

"Yeah… Yeah, that’s weird,” you agreed.

“How about you girls pick some cake? That’s easy,” Bucky suggested. Already, he liked Kasey.

You snorted. “_Girls_,” you repeated.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “She’s always laughing at me for the way I talk,” he told Kasey. “Must forget I’m a war hero and all that.”

Kasey laughed, utterly charmed.

“Tea, please. And whatever has the most chocolate in it,” you said to Bucky, flicking him the menu on the table. He grinned at you.

“Kasey?” he asked.

“Ahh… Tea. Too. I’ll have tea too,” she said, not even looking at the menu.

“She likes carrot cake,” you added.

Bucky nodded and made his way to the counter, readying himself for conversation with the staff.

“Talk about a silver lining,” Kasey said, watching Bucky. As soon as she said it, her face dropped and she looked horrified. “I’m so fucking sorry. Y/N, I’m-”

“It’s okay. Seriously,” you assured her, taking hold of her hands. “It’s okay. And, you’re not wrong. I honestly don’t even let myself think about what would have happened if I’d survived another way. He just… does everything for me right now,”

“I heard he was at the funerals,”

“Yeah. I just…,” you tried to articulate the depth of your thoughts. What the fuck would have you done with Bucky? You just shook your head and shrugged.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,”

“No, don’t worry. I can’t remember them, really. Everything’s still really blurry,” you told her. “Like, I have to remind myself of how much time has gone by already,”

“Feels like yesterday and a year ago at the same time,” Kasey said.

“Yeah. Exactly. Some days I’m weirdly fine. So fine that I get, like, guilty about how okay I feel. The other days it all catches up to me, you know?”

“Yeah. Well, no. But yeah. Do you think you’ll move back to D.C.?”

Of course, you had thought about what life would be like in the future. How long would the Stark Tower hospitality last? How long would Bucky want to look after you? How long would you want or need to be looked after? Every time you’d thought about it though, you started to spiral a little too much and gave up.

“I don’t know…” you answered honestly.

“Well, if you ever want a break from all that-” she said, nodding over to Bucky at the counter, “I’m happy to do a little Wife Swap with ya,”

“Oh my god, no way. Remember when I stayed with you guys for like, two weeks a couple years ago? I cannot handle Ben. He’s too neat and pedantic.”

And so it went like that. Bucky returned, bearing cake and tea. He mostly listened, interjected with flirty remarks and quick quips. A couple hours later, after bidding Kasey farewell, you felt good. The walk back to the Tower was quiet.

…

**Two days later.**

Bucky’s phone was on 3%. He mumbled incoherent cuss words to himself as he felt around in the dark for the charger. In the process, he realised you were not asleep in the bed next to him.

“Y/N?”

He heard it then - a sound he had grown familiar with over the past month and a bit.

You were curled up under the shower, sobbing and still in your pajamas.

…

**Sometime the next day.**

“How’s our girl doin’ up there?” Sam asked.

Bucky shrugged. “You know. Sometimes she’s okay. Sometimes she’s not,”

“And you guys are sleepin’ in the same bed now? Is that to help her… or…”

Bucky threw a punch, holding nothing back. It sent Sam flying.

“Man! Come on!”

Although he couldn’t remember the exact night it happened, at some point in the week before, he’d found his way back to his bed. You’d been occupying it since coming to the Tower. 

Sometimes he’d lay next to you, fall asleep, but mostly Bucky had been making a conscious effort to give you space by crashing on the couch, confusing Alpine. However, that had stopped. You’d brush your teeth together after chamomile. You’d borrow Bucky’s iPad and scroll through wholesome subreddits while Bucky read books you’d ordered him offline. It was symbiosis.

Eventually, you began to crawl under the covers together. Talk about random bullshit. Thumb wrestle with your good hand and his right. Fuss over Alpinne. Pass out and get better sleep next to each other than you were getting apart.

One morning Nat had come to the door, F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked a mostly-still-asleep Bucky if she should let her in. A mostly-still-asleep Bucky said yes. Nat clicked her tongue and made a face from the bedroom doorway. Of course she told Sam.

…

**A week and a bit later.**

“Ready?” Cecilia asked, to which you nodded eagerly. She began the final part of taking your cast off. “So, where’s Barnes?”

“Mission briefing,” you said, the words sounding weird coming from your mouth. It wasn’t a phrase you really expected to be saying outside of a joke in your life.

“Oh, yeah. Heard about that. They’re back on the job,”

“What do you mean 'back’?” you asked.

“Well, after D.C. most of the team had some time off,” she answered. Cecilia pulled the cast from your skin and inspected your hand and wrist.

“Fuck, that smells,” you said, almost gagging.

She laughed. “Yep. Skin is gonna be dry and sensitive. Shower. Wash it well but be careful. Use a bit of extra lotion and you’ll be right,”

“Thanks. Do they always have so much time off?”

“Some of them. But your boy and Cap’s gang, no - not usually this long,” she told you. You watched her throw the gloves she’d been wearing in the bin and wash her hands.

“Is it because of me?”

Cecilia turned around and thought for only a second or two. “Partly, maybe. I think D.C. was bad for a lot of them. The really pushed themselves for days trying to find people. That's… a lot of death to be around. Even for them.”

You nodded and thanked her again, heading back to Bucky’s suite. The whole way there you thought about what the mission briefing meant, or more specifically: what it would mean for you and Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you to everyone that let me know how they felt about a time skip - having people interact is 100% the most effective way to keep fics alive. An even more special thank you to the people who are sharing their stories of grief and loss with me. I know how painfully personal mourning is, and I know how crazy it can make you feel. I’m here for you. This fic is here for you. And, if he could be, Bucky would be too.


End file.
